


Twisted With a Touch of Salt

by giraffeprince



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Fic!, Mall AU, Multi, OC/OC - Freeform, Opposites Attract, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Summer Romance, im bad at tags lol, summer job AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-03-29 23:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13937460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffeprince/pseuds/giraffeprince
Summary: After wrecking his parents’ car, Dan is forced to get a job in the worst place imaginable- retail that caters to a teenage demographic. His boss is mean, and his customers are annoying, but by far the worst part of his position is that he has to work right next to a soft pretzel stand. Not only is he not allowed to buy any during breaks, Dan also can’t get the irritating blue-eyed employee out of his head.It’s going to be a loooonnnggg summer neither one will forget.Updates every Sunday!





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for clicking. This is my first fic EVER, and I do not have a beta or anyone to rate or proofread my work. I do my best, but if I make any mistakes please let me know and I’ll do my best to fix them. Enjoy the story!

It was seven in the morning. Or, as Dan liked to put it, way too goddamn early. He reached over on his dresser to turn off the alarm, and groaned. He slumped to his dresser, and grabbed the first two things his hands touched.

They were both black. How fitting.

He briefly checked his reflection in the mirror, and tried to fix his curls one last time. They sprung right back to their natural state, and Dan gave up. He supposed it didn’t matter what he looked like anyway. His summer had been ruined long before today, and bed head was the least of his worries.

He could have been sleeping in. He would have, definitely, had he not accidentally crashed his mother’s new car into a stop sign, which wouldn’t necessarily have been such a big deal. However, because Dan did not have his license, and because Dan may or may not have been slightly intoxicated, it had become a big deal in the Howell household. A very big deal.

Although Dan was physically fine, and the stop sign escaped with just a dent, the front bumper of his mother’s car was totaled. A week at the mechanics, and £1200 later, the bumper was fixed, but Dan’s parents were still upset. They insisted that he get a job, and finally “learn some responsibility.”

Dan took offense to this. He was responsible. Well, maybe he didn’t always do his chores. And maybe he sometimes “forgot” to do his homework. And he definitely had a serious procrastination problem.

He supposed his parents had a point.

And that, then, was the reason why Dan arrived at the mall, blearily eyed and wishing he could be anywhere else, to begin his first shift at Threadz, the self-proclaimed “teen dream” for clothing. Dan had never purchased a single item from the store before, although he could se how one could presume he did. His style embodied that of the store’s image- loose sweaters, with skinny ripped jeans. Pastel colored shirts, with flowers, paired with black studs on his earlobes. Soft, but with an edge.

Not that Dan would ever shop there in real life. Too mainstream.

Dan supposed his style was the only reason they hired him. His interview was awkward at best, and he hardly had any previous work experience. But he needed the money, so he smiled a plastic smile and said that yes, he did shop at Threadz,  
and that working there would be his “Teen Dream.”

He got the job, but lost a little bit of his soul.

Just thinking about it made him cringe.

This was going to be the worst summer ever.

.........................................................

Phil liked mornings. He liked the soft paleness blue of the sky, the cool brush of the morning breeze, and the general calm of the beginning of the new day.

Mornings were like nice apples, Phil mused. Crisp, but sweet. Phil also mused that he was hungry, so he grabbed a cereal bar on his way out the door.

He arrived at the mall promptly at 7:45, and grinned. Yes, Phil liked mornings, but he truly liked the mall in the mornings. It was pretty much deserted, save for a few shoppers milling about. He supposed it resembled some kind of retail ghost town.

And Phil was all right with that.

He arrived at his station early, and went to put on his apron for the first time this summer. He smelled the air, the sent of warm butter and salty carbohydrates filling his nostrils and making his insides warm and happy.

Phil was starting his second summer working for Twisted Sister, the mall’s resident soft pretzel and snack stand. He didn’t consider himself to be particularly twisted, nor was he anyone’s sister, but he fit in nonetheless.

The pretzel stand always used to be Phil’s favorite part of shopping, and surprisingly he still enjoyed it even after working behind the counter. Seeing people’s faces light up as they took their first bites of the buttery bread made the grease on his hands and the salt on his shoes worth it. Not to mention Phil got to take home any unsold soft pretzels at the end of the workday.

Plus, it paid minimum wage, and Phil wanted to buy a car. So there was that.

“You ready to start this thing or what?”

A voice brought Phil back to reality. Turning his head, he found a pretty blonde, a couple inches shorter than him. Her eye makeup looked like an Instagram photo, but probably wasn’t completely appropriate for eight in the morning, not to mention handing out greasy snacks to shoppers.

To each their own, Phil supposed.

“Earth to Phil!” The blond rolled her eyes and stepped closer to him. She reached out and started snapping her fingers, a little too close to Phil’s face for comfort.

Phil awkwardly took a step back. Was he supposed to know this person?

“Oh my God.” Realization flashed on the blonde’s face. “You actually don’t recognize me.”

Phil blinked at her, a blush rising on his face. He definitely was supposed to know this person.

“I...uh...you, well, I know,” the words died in his throat. This was not a good start to his job. He had already offended his coworker, a girl who he apparently was supposed to know. How was he so awkward?

The girl huffed, and rolled her eyes. “Phil, I’m Stacy. You know, from last year?”

Phil was shocked. “Stacy? But... but you have blonde hair. And well, well you look really good. Not that you didn’t look good before,” Phil rushed to add. His face looked like a full on tomato.

“No offense taken, Phil” Stacy muttered, a small smile creeping to her lips. “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed. Except for the fact you’re pretty much the height of a small building.” She laughed and started to set up the station.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized her. Stacy had been his coworker on Tuesdays, sometimes Thursdays, at the counter last year. She was Phil’s best friend at Twisted Sister, mainly due to her naturally funny disposition, and spunky attitude. She certainly had livened up the place.

In Phil’s defense, last year Stacy had brown hair. And glasses. And braces. Stacy also wouldn’t have worn the type of neckline she was wearing now last year. Then again, Stacy didn’t have the same, well, assets that she had now. Junior year had treated her really well. Phil was kind of jealous, to be honest. All he had gotten were a couple inches in height.

There was also the fact that Phil hadn’t seen or spoken to Stacy since last August, because Stacy “liked to keep summer friends in the summer.” A comment like that might have sounded harsh coming from someone else’s mouth, but that was Stacy for you. She told it like it was, and didn’t really care what others thought.

“Jesus, Phil. Keep staring at me like that and someone’s going to think you’re straight,” Stacy remarked, as she walked towards the sink to wash her hands.

“You’re just so different. The same, but different.” Phil couldn’t get over it. Although, it was already getting difficult to imagine what old Stacy looked like. That was how life worked, Phil supposed. The present blended into the past until it was one old memory.

“Well, get your gloves on. These pretzels aren’t going to twist themselves!”

Phil grinned, and moved towards his work station. He had a really good feeling about this summer.


	2. Braxton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back! Hope you like it!

“You’re Dan, I’m guessing?”

A man, probably around ten years Dan’s senior, started walking towards him. He looked like a wannabe surfer, with icy blond hair spiked into a small peak, and a deep tan that looked like it came from a can, not a beach. Dan already didn’t like him.

The man reached Dan, and extended his hand in attempt to initiate some kind of handshake. Dan gulped, and tried to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans before shaking the mystery man’s hand. The man either didn’t notice, or was choosing to ignore it for Dan’s sake, because he grabbed his hand anyway. Dan flinched.

“I’m Braxton, and I’ll be your supervisor,” he said, firmly pumping Dan’s hand in his.

“Oh, well, nice to meet you” Dan lied. It was not nice to meet Braxton, his boss at a job that was his personal idea of hell, and endure his iron handshake. “I’m Dan, but you already know that.”

Dan’s weak attempt at humor fell flat.

“Cheeky, are we?”

Braxton’s smile remained on his face, but it certainly wasn’t genuine anymore. He opened his mouth if to say anything else, but seemed to decide against it.

“Well, I guess we better train you,” Braxton said, with a glint in his eye Dan could only describe as evil, “and rule number one is to respect authority.”

Inwardly, Dan groaned. Outwardly, he smiled, and hoped it didn’t come off as a grimace.

For the next hour, Dan was shown the works of the store. He learned to place the clothes on the racks so they looked casually strewn about, but at the same time was completely intentional. The setup was so specific that Dan was surprised Braxton hadn’t pulled out a literal ruler or protractor, because he was using words like “4.5 centimeters” and “52 degrees” to describe the positions of the clothes on the faux wooden table used as a rack.

Braxton also stressed the importance of customer service.

“The customer is ALWAYS right,” he said, looking Dan dead in the eyes, “and you are always wrong.”

“But what if they ask me for something we don’t even sell?” Dan asked, somewhat jokingly, but also because he was legitimately concerned.

“You better freaking figure it out.”

Dan was so screwed.

......................................................................

Phil and Stacy did not have a supervisor, although they probably needed one. This was because Stacy’s aunt owned the pretzel stand, and trusted her niece to keep things in check. That trust was not misplaced, as Stacy took her job very seriously. Too seriously, in Phil’s opinion.

In his first hour of his first day back, he had twisted twenty pretzels, salted ten cups of pretzel nuggets, and had started to mop the floor. For her part, Stacy was hard at work as well. She had organized the cash register, written the daily specials on the store’s whiteboard, and consistently checked on the pretzels in the oven so they wouldn’t burn. She had also served the single customer who wanted a pretzel before nine in the morning.

Phil couldn’t blame him. Twisted Sister pretzels were bomb.

By 10, the display was arranged, the signs were hung up, and Twisted Sister was ready for the lunchtime rush. Stacy’s militant preparations had apparently paid off.

“You know, we aren’t going to get more than a couple customers for the next 45 minutes, at least, so if you want,” Stacy drew out that last word, and cocked her left brow, “You can take a quick break.”

“Really? You don’t need any help or anything?” Phil asked, shocked at Stacy’s out of character leniency.

“Relax, Phil.” Stacy shook her head slightly. “I guess I’m technically like your boss, but I’m your friend first. Plus you worked really hard, and I want some alone time at the stand. Just be back by 10:30.”

“Alright then.”

Phil decided to leave before Stacy changed her mind and came to her senses. He untied his apron, and placed his uniform’s pretzel hat on a stool near the oven.

As he had learned last year, rule number one of being a mall employee on break was to not look like a mall employee on break. That way, the staff in the store treated you like paying customers, not fugitives hiding in their stores from their managers. It had happened in this mall more times than one would expect.

And so, Phil stepped out of his stand, and into the store.

He walked past several familiar stores, shocked at how they all pretty much looked exactly the same as they did the year before. There were some new stores as well, but nothing Phil was interested in. He had no real interest in buying greeting cards, and had no real budget for the diamonds at the new jewelry place. Though he liked shiny things, he was young enough that someone would watch him the whole time or worse, follow him around to make sure he didn’t steal anything, and Phil wasn’t about that. So, he turned around and started walking in the other direction.

He eventually started to smell cologne, which meant only one thing. Threadz.

Phil, along with pretty much the rest of the mall, privately and sometimes not-so-privately thought Threadz was the definition of cringe. Though it attracted most of the mall’s key demographic, teenagers, and brought in the most customers by far of any store at the mall, it was easy to hate. The music they played was irritating, and the store reeked of perfume.

However, it was pretty dark, fairly large, and had a bunch of decorative chairs in odd corners, which meant it was the perfect place for Phil to rest his legs and chill out for a couple minutes without being detected. So, Phil walked in, found a secluded spot near some jeans that were more holes than denim, and closed his eyes.

He must have dozed off, because he awoke to someone shaking him.

“Phil? PHIL!” A teenager with dirty blond hair that swooped in his eyes was smiling at him.

“Sam?” Phil asked, hardly believing his eyes, “You still work here? I thought you swore you were never coming back.”

“Yeah, well, it pays minimum wage,” Sam started, his smile rapidly disappearing, “and plus it’s not like a ton of people want this job.”

Phil opened his mouth, about to argue, but no amount of money would make Phil want to work at Threadz.

“I suppose you’re right.” Phil stood up, checking his watch. Luckily, he had only been asleep for 15 minutes, 10 minutes before Stacy wanted him back. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. He would not face the wrath of an angry Stacy today.

“Listen, dude, it’s been nice seeing you, but I have to—“

“HEY!”

Phil was cut off by an orange colored man with a haircut that belonged in the early 2000s. He would have laughed, but the man had a crazed look in his eyes and enough muscle on his traffic-cone. colored body that Phil was at least a little bit scared of him. Judging from that and Sam’s paling expression, this man was not to be messed with.

“NO EMPLOYEES IN MY STORE,” he bellowed, spit flying from his mouth like a rabid dog, “ESPECIALLY FROM THE FOOD COURT.”

Phil was offended. He was not a food court employee, the lowest of the low on the mall jobs hierarchy. He may serve food, but it wasn’t gross or overpriced. And, Phil actually liked his job, a fact that he remained proud of.

“I’m not a—You know what, I was just leaving.”

Phil decided Oompa-Loompa man was not worth his time, and started to make his way out of the store. But, before he reached the exit, he turned around and gave the belligerent man his best smile.

“It was very nice meeting you.”

Sometimes, Phil just couldn’t help himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did ya like it? Did ya hate it? Leave me a comment!
> 
> Also, I PROMISE Dan and Phil actually meet next chapter, which will be posted next week on SUNDAY!


	3. Chapter 3

After the training session from Braxton, which managed to seem too long yet not give nearly enough information, Dan was stationed on the floor. Apparently, his job was to straighten out the racks of clothes and assist any customers who may need it. In reality, Dan was hiding behind a rack of crop tops, hoping that the tiny shirts would give him enough cover that he would avoid any social interaction before his break.

As Ninja-like as Dan considered himself to be, he still had pointed one customer in the direction of the cash register, and informed another about the 20% off on swimwear. And, it looked like he was about to help another, if the blond boy approaching him was any indication.

“Can I help you?” Dan asked, trying with limited success to sound genuine, and not sarcastic.

“Hey, look at you!” The blond smiled. “Picking it up already!”

Dan was almost positive he had never met this guy before. It’s possible it’s someone from school. His eyes widened at the sudden realization that someone he new could see him not just in a Threadz, but working at one. His reputation would be destroyed.

“Dude, did I startle you?” The blond asked, suddenly looking concerned. “I’m Sam and I work here. I just wanted to welcome you to the shithole that is Threadz.”

Dan was starting to like this guy, extraverted as he may be.

“I’m Dan,” Dan said, extending his hand. “Somehow, this job is even worse than I thought it would be.”

Sam flashed a knowing smile. “What, you weren’t expecting a boss with the same complexion and mannerisms of Donald Trump?”

Dan laughed at that, because it was painfully accurate. Braxton really was the younger, more neurotic version of the current president

“Anyway, I was wondering if you want to go eat lunch together,” Sam asked, running his fingers through his hair, “I checked the shift schedule and we have the same break.”

“Are you trying to ask me out?” Dan asked, meeting Sam’s eyes. He phrased it in a way that sounded like he was kidding, but if Sam said yes, Dan would probably go along with it. What could he say, Sam was hot.

Sam laughed, which was not a good sign. “You wish.”

Dan felt a slight pang of disappointment. Hopefully he hadn’t ruined the only friendship he had at this stupid job.

“Let’s go,” Sam said, checking his watch. “Our break started exactly one minute ago, and if we don’t come back exactly on time, Braxton will lose it.”

“Okay,” Dan agreed, happy that Sam had not reacted badly to the idea of Dan being interested in guys.

“Just make sure you take off your name tag,” the blond stated, already taking off his, “Trust me, you don’t want others to know you work at Threadz.”

...................................................................

Phil was wiped. Thank god the lunch rush was mostly over, although he knew that there would be plenty of people coming to buy salty mall snacks until his shift was up and he could go home. A shower to get rid of the butter smell and a bed was looking really nice right now. Even Stacey was looking tired.

“Phil, can you get more salt from the back?” Stacy asked, clearly trying to hold back a yawn.

“I’m not quite sure where it is,” Phil admitted, not wanting to spend hours in the back room searching for sodium.

“It’s on the third shelf from the bottom, I think.”

Phil went into the back, and thankfully located the salt pretty quickly. He returned to the kitchen area to find Stacy talking to two people, one of which was Sam.

“Hi Phil! Fancy seeing you again!” Sam grinned at him, while Stacy and the mysterious boy looked at him in confusion.  
“He fell asleep in Threadz. Braxton kicked him out.”

The boy smirked, not even attempting to hide it from Phil. Stacy just straight up laughed at him, and Phil felt somewhat attacked. It was a pretty honest mistake after all, and even Phil could admit it was pretty funny. He joined in the laughter.

Suddenly, another customer approached the shop. Ever the businesswoman, Stacy  
went to help them out, leaving the boys alone.

“Stacy told me you didn’t even recognize her,” Sam said accusingly.

Phil snorted. “Like you did. She looks completely different!”

Sam’s face turned serious, and Phil could see in his eyes that Sam went somewhere else mentally. “I did, actually.”

Wanting to break up any tension, Phil asked for their order, which was somewhat unnecessary because Phil already knew the words that would come out of Sam’s mouth.

“Reject bin, please?”

The reject bin was where Phil and Stacy put all of the misshapen pretzels that were still edible, but not within the shops standards to sell for profit. At the end of the day, Stacy would donate these pretzels to a local soup kitchen, but during the day, it’s what Phil and Stacy would snack from. Once Sam had discovered the reject bin, he had started snacking on it too.

“Does your friend want the rejects too, or...” Phil asked, mostly because he still hadn’t been introduced to the boy yet.

“Rejects are fine,” the boy said, taking the pretzel Sam handed to him, “the name’s Dan by the way.”

“I’m Phil, but you already know that, thanks to Sam exposing my sleeping habits,” Phil said, shooting Sam a glare as a joke.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, Dan and I gotta bounce, we have 3 minutes until our break ends and you know how Braxton is.” Sam turned around to leave.

“Real nice meeting you,” the mysterious boy said, following suit.

Not the mysterious boy, Phil corrected himself.

Dan.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, you made it to the end! Did you like it? Did you hate it? Wish something went differently? You can let me know! I appreciate all comments, and I’m trying to improve my skills as a writer, so I find them very helpful.
> 
> I have a couple of prewritten chapters already, and will be posting the next one on Sunday. Thanks again for stopping by!


End file.
